


In Little Stars

by heartstone



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Romance, Sexy Times, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartstone/pseuds/heartstone
Summary: “Do you know,” Annatar asked after a while, both of them looking up at the stars, “Up close they are fire: glowing orbs of molten gold just like Vása the Consumer. But far away they seem so calm. . . and wrought of silver instead of gold.”***Annatar helps distract the new Lord of Eregion from his worries.
Relationships: Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	In Little Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Harp_of_Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harp_of_Gold/gifts).



Quote from William Shakespeare’s _Romeo and Juliet_

***

When he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun.

***

From where he reclined at the top of the tower, looking down upon the fair city, Tyelpë fancied that Eregion was a reflection of the heavens above. The surrounding woodlands of night-darkened green was merely a likeness of the black nighttime sky, and the gleaming white walls of the city was a star, twinkling with the lives of its inhabitants and shimmering with many colours. He smiled gently, looking away from Eregion’s streets and back through the telescope. The milky scattering of stars came into view, a swirled ribbon of celestial clouds of deepest blue that only glinted their colour around the violet halos of the larger stars and was only made noticeable by the pale yellow that seemed to illumine the indigo ribbon from behind. But despite the aid of the telescope, the stars still looked small and impossibly distant- unreachable white jewels. He sighed.

So lost in his own thoughts, Tyelpë nearly forgot about the figure next to him, and he immediately reproached himself as Annatar settled behind him, hugging him from around his back and resting his head on his shoulder to kiss his neck, chaste and thoughtful. The Maia’s breath was warm and faint, but the soft puffs still made him shudder as they tickled his skin. This escape on his balcony had been meant to help Tyelpë forget some of his anxieties about his new Lordship, but the churning sphere of his worries kept pulling him out of the moment with nausea. He felt Annatar’s arms squeeze around him tenderly, and he kissed the elf’s neck a second time.

“Tell me what troubles you, Tyelpë,” he murmured, and the warmth grew over his skin, tingling as the spring air then cooled its farthest frontiers.

The last thing he wanted to do was weigh down Annatar’s thoughts with his own, to embitter this night. But he also knew that Annatar would be disappointed if he lied, if he insisted he had no troubles. He pulled away from the telescope and further into the firm, warm hold to escape a sudden cool draught. It was rather chilly, but their nest of blankets and pillows and the heat of the Maia was enough to make their lofty view on the balcony cozy if he didn’t move too close to the edge. He delayed his answer, pretending shift himself to get comfortable, and chewed his lip in thought.

“Sometimes,” he replied softly, “I wonder if Grandfather invented the telescope to see the stars up close, and if this invention led to those fateful, dreadful gems. . .”

He immediately regretted his words. Bringing up Fëanor and the Silmarili was not only taboo, but could be disastrous for him and his new office if attentions were brought more than they already were to his family name. People did not need reminding, and even if it was only Annatar with him now, it would do him well to forget those musings and hold his tongue.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized, “I could not help but think of him, though I should not.”

Annatar was quiet for many moments, until Tyelpë did not think he would answer. The Maia pulled back, and he missed the gentle pressure and warmth across his ribs where the Maia’s arms had once encircled. The elf felt his fingers run through his hair instead, somehow missing all of the tangles, his many rings clacking against the glass beads the elf had braided into his hair for the ceremony earlier that day. The polished glass glinted under the scrutiny of the low icy light of the Fëanorian lamps, and Tyelpë felt a sudden queasiness- was everything going to remind him of his Grandfather tonight?

Quite unexpectedly, Annatar spoke, as if sensing his renewed distress. The gentle pull of his hair as it was smoothed by Annatar’s fingers and the pull of Annatar’s low voice near the shell of his ear calmed him a bit simply by way of its soothing tenor, before he was even aware of the words that were being said.

“He looked up and saw an innumerable, unreachable beauty,” the Maia began in a near-whisper, in a voice Tyelpë felt more than heard. “And he brought it down to Arda in his reverent fascination, becoming possessive. . .” His voice hummed as it trailed off, as if it was sending ripples through his very mind. He was drawing Tyelpë closer, guiding him to turn around and face him as he continued to speak.

“But you, Tyelpë, you will bring them down out of the joy of their Being, and out of sympathy of their aloofness, and will hide nor hoard them not.”

A pause, and he faced the Maia fully now, the glittering gold of his eyes that mingled with the radiance of the pale blue lamps enrapturing him, commanding all of his attention- Tyelpë craved this, craved a focus that would keep his mind from its treacherous wanderings. Annatar laughed- knowing his thought- infusing the spring air with a sound that unfurled like a purr from deep within him. He slipped onto the elf’s lap, kissing his temple, then his cheek, tracing the arch of bone forwards, then down to the corner of his lips. The newly instated elf-Lord gasped softly, holding onto the Maia’s hips and closing his eyes to the divine feel of his weight, of his warmth. His next words were spoken so close to his lips that they brushed his own as he spoke:

“Do not apologize, for you are not him.”

He could not answer, even if Annatar’s lips had not covered his own, even if the kiss that had suddenly filled his consciousness had left more room for thought, had not busied his lips completely. Instead he held onto the Maia’s hips as he was pushed back against the large pillows that they were resting on, as he was sunk into the fleecy blankets and eclipsed by Annatar above him, still straddling him as he all but consumed him, leaning against his shoulders. Annatar’s lips were pleasantly hot like tea ready to be sipped, and they tasted of the wine they had been drinking, fruity and intoxicating, sending a branching, searing heat through his veins, coursing to his Fëa. They implored him to part his mouth and to drink his affection greedily, to renounce his worries for the reign of the Maia’s lips and the slow rocking of his ass against his growing arousal. All his perception shrunk to those points of their contact, infinitely small but so seeming large, expanding until that was all that filled his mind.

When the Maia pulled back Tyelpë could not even remember his worries, could only focus on the thrill that pulsed over his swollen lips as the cool spring air stole the warmth from them, and the echoing of his bewildered gasp that left him when their lips had disconnected, the breath that he suddenly needed rising and falling his chest in his voraciousness. He watched, bereft of speech but yearning to have him close again, as Annatar leaned up onto his knees to have the space to unlace the doeskin that was becoming rather too fitted against Tyelpë’s pelvis. He moaned as his stiff length was freed, first to the coolness of the air as it surrounded the sensitive flesh, then to the gird of Annatar’s hand as it deftly stroked him to further hardness. He rolled his trembling hips up to meet him, unable to stop his throaty cry as the Maia smoothed the pad of his thumb over the droplets that formed a thin gleaming rivulet along his tip. He shuddered as the Maia pulled away completely- by the Valar, what made him suddenly so pitifully needy?

Annatar leaned back down, a mischievous glint in his eyes like amber whisky caught in the sun. The stars faded for the glow of gold above him, for the heat that fell from him, from the hands that tugged at his collar and the lips that bruised and lavished his neck and the dip of his manubrium, abusing the flesh with his fervency. Tyelpë’s worries had been completely obliterated, aside from the ever-mounting neediness that, frantic, told him that _oil_ was required, or he would surely hurt the Maia in this overmastering ache to feel the tight clasp of his body around him, hot and quivering with his intrusion. He rolled his hips upwards again at the thought, moaning as he met only the silk of the Maia's high-girdled chiton. Annatar's laugh dripped slow from his lips like syrup, and crimson stained Tyelpë’s cheeks at his desperation, but the Maia did not make him suffer for long.

With one arm supporting himself against a cushion near Tyelpë’s head, Annatar’s other hand much too slowly hiked up the skirt of his garment. Was he wearing nothing under those strange Valinorian robes? He whimpered as he was guided between the Maia’s legs, as he was pressed against his already-slicked hole, and as the Maia shifted- pinning Tyelpë’s shoulders to the pillows, gleaming smile infuriatingly smug- he teased him one last time with the smooth, maddening friction of his cock between the firm globes of his ass before sinking down slowly. Annatar sighed and shuddered as he relished the slow, torturous stretch of his impalement- but Tyelpë could not help but buck up into the rippling heat and narrowness of that channel, the clench of his tight ring around the base of his cock as he was fully sheathed.

“Ah. . .” He couldn’t think, but he whimpered and writhed under the Maia, lips fumbling over the simplest of pleas. “Anna,” he moaned breathlessly, “Please, I- _ah!_ “ His voice broke to a wail, and he wondered if the sound would drift down to the city below. Annatar’s pace was merciless, despite Tyelpë knowing the cunning Maia had planned this night well in advance. Annatar lifted his hips up in time as Tyelpë settled his own against the sheets, their bodies meeting after parting, pulling away and meeting again, pulling and meeting and pulling and meeting. . . Tyelpë scrambled to grab the blankets, finding a small coverlet made of fur to secure himself as he relentlessly met the Maia’s straddle, the sound of skin slapping against the flesh of the other urging them to an even greater rhythm.

He wouldn’t last much longer, not with the relentless snap of Annatar’s hips, nor the feeling of his powerful, tense thighs on either side of his hips as he rode him, nor with the enticing stretch of the silk over the hard peaks of the Maia’s nipples, or the way Annatar’s lips were slightly parted as he thrust back against his cock, the arched column of his neck so alluring as he threw his coppery curls back and the bob of the Adam’s apple as he murmured something incomprehensible to the infinity above them. Tyelpë grabbed the Maia’s hips, unsatisfied with his grip on the furs, surely bruising them as he ground him down, utterly enchanted as finally the broiling heat that had spread itself within him burst, fizzing into little sparks of colour, the elf too far gone to even form the familiar syllables of the Maia’s name. He simply cried out to him as he spent himself in drawn-out pulses, as Annatar fucked back against him once, twice, thrice, before shuddering wordlessly, his body clinging and trembling around the sensitive flesh as if afraid he would leave him hollow and unanchored.

Sweat beaded Tyelpë’s temples- were those tears trailing from the corners of his eyes borne unknowingly in his ravenousness? He still held onto the Maia’s hips, unable to gaze away from the bliss that shone on his face, a husky moan heaving past his lips as he felt himself slip from Annatar’s body, at the feeling of his own seed as it followed after his softening cock, and the Maia’s little mewl as it gushed between his thighs, closing them quickly to keep what he could from dripping further. He fell next to his Tyelpë before removing the chiton’s loosened ties and letting the stained silk pool to the side. Naked, he grinned devilishly, caressing the elf's exposed skin at his collar and tangling his long shapely legs with his own. He knew better than to encourage the Maia’s self-satisfaction, no matter how pleasurable and no matter how much he had needed that freedom from the confines of his own mind. He settled instead for a kiss, long and deep and _thankful._

Annatar chuckled, rich and husky. He rested his head on his chest, stretching his arms to encircle him in an absorbing hug.

“Do you know,” Annatar asked after a while, both of them looking up at the stars, “Up close they are fire: glowing orbs of molten gold just like Vása the Consumer. But far away they seem so calm. . . and wrought of silver instead of gold.”

The Maia sighed, breath warm across his flesh.

“You have a mighty fire about you too, Tyelpë,” he said so the elf could scarcely discern it from the nodding of the ivy that clung to the balusters of the balcony, from his own pulse. “But your fire is unlike all who came before you- it does not consume. It tempers you, strengthens you. It could never reduce you to ash in the wind. . .”

Tyelpë paused, then clasped the hand that rested on his chest, kissing it and letting it fall back into place over his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a roll writing this month! For some reason I've been needing to write about these two a lot, which I partially blame on Harp_of_Gold's AWESOME work "Build Up A New Us." <3 Seriously adore what they've written- and how often they update continues to amaze me (*o*)- which is why this little thank-you gift is totally necessary! I really hope you enjoy it! :*  
> Of course, you have to keep your smut classy by quoting Shakespeare! :D  
> ***


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